Part of the job
by gracedUSA
Summary: A victim of a vampire attack is displaying some unusual symptoms. Sam and Dean have different approaches to helping. Reviews much appreciated - still storyboarding and looking for feedback! I'm relatively new to Supernatural so I'm working on a relatively simplistic set of character archetypes. Also - I don't own any of the characters, plot, etc. Please don't sue.
1. Chapter 1

It all seemed very simple. Three vampires run amok in a small town. Three victims killed, one missing. Creepy old abandoned warehouse.

Textbook.

That is, until they'd finished the hunt and found themselves with custody of a survivor. The victim who'd gone missing wasn't dead. There were bite marks all over her and rope burns around her wrists. Her temperature was frighteningly high and she was scared. But she was most definitely alive and…surprisingly…fairly cogent.

At least for the first few hours.

She sat in the back seat of the Impala and dutifully told them everything that had happened. Kidnapped on her way home from a friend's house. Taken to said creepy old abandoned warehouse. Tied to a doorframe by her wrists, bitten and bled almost dry within a day. Then they'd started giving her fluids – blood – at least that's what she thought it was. She'd been blindfolded. But the taste, which she described as metallic and acidic, seemed on point with blood…but not necessarily with human blood. Between that and the smell of burning that clung to her skin one thing was clear - they'd been giving her demon blood.

And then, a few hours before Sam and Dean had finished their hunt and freed her, they'd made her swallow something else. It was sticky and bitter and rancid, she told them. So her captors said, it made the blood easier to get.

Sam and Dean didn't ask what that meant. They were too focused on the demon blood. And on the fact that she was going to start having withdrawls any second. And on the fact that they were a solid hour from any hotel where they could hole up until she recovered.

Brinn was 19, no immediate family, visiting a distant cousin who lived in town. She'd texted that she was all right and that she'd decided to head back to the city. No one would question her absence. Which was good.

Because at this point said absence wasn't negotiable. She was going to have to detox – hallucinations, vomiting, incessant pain – and there was no way they were leaving her to do that by herself.

She'd decided to trust Sam, who'd cut her down from the doorframe, taken off the blindfold, assured her everything was going to be fine. Dean she wasn't quite as fond of. At least not yet. Her first impression of him was "that other one who beheaded the vampires" – which, while heroic, wasn't exactly comforting. So she just curled into Sam's side and passed out, half an hour from the hopefully-not-too-terrible hotel.

She woke up still ten minutes out.

"Stop the car," she mumbled into Sam's chest.

"What?" Dean snapped. She wasn't bailing. That wasn't an option.

"Stop the car," she repeated.

"You're not going anywhere. We need to make sure…" Dean began.

"I need to throw up now stop the bloody car!" Brinn shouted, pressing her hands to her temples, trying to control the pounding in her head.

"Okay…okay…it's gonna be fine," Sam said gently, as Dean pulled over.

She didn't listen, just threw open the door, collapsed on hands and knees and vomited bile until she passed out again.

"This is gonna be fun." Dean said as his younger brother picked her up from the gravel and carried her back to the Impala.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean checked them in, asking for a room that gave them lots of privacy, winking when he asked so they wouldn't suspect his real purpose. Purging demon blood wasn't a pleasant experience. He didn't need spectators.

Sam carried Brinn to bed and Dean gave him a two pairs of handcuffs.

"Are we sure?" Sam asked.

"She smells like demon blood Sam," Dean replied, "better safe than sorry. I don't want her hurting herself. Or either of us."

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

She fought against the cuffs, sending new streams of blood from the open wounds on her arms, sobbing more than screaming. She hallucinated. Ranted in Latin. And she fought hard, her whole body trembling with eyes clamped shut or open wide and glazed over. Sam excused himself for most of it – eight hours total – and came back just as she passed out again.

He could tolerate a lot – but there was something about watching her suffer that just put an unbearable weight in his stomach. He needed out.

"Thanks for the help," Dean said, none to kindly, as his brother reappeared. He'd spent the better part of eight hours making sure Brinn didn't hurt herself, and keeping her fever in check so she didn't have a heat induced seizure in addition to the tremors from her withdrawals. He'd spent the better part of eight hours keeping her safe. It was part of the job – not a part they often had to face – but part of the job.

Brinn woke a few hours later, cogent, the hallucinations clearly over, but terrified.

"Why is there so much blood?" she asked, her voice carrying some strange mixture of panic and resignation.

"You just opened up some of the cuts," Dean said.

"Why am I…" she began, clearly addressing the cuffs linking her to the bed frame.

"You're okay," Sam whispered, cutting her off and unlocking the handcuffs before she had time to finish.

"I…but…" she trailed off, "What happened?"

"They gave you demon blood," Dean replied, "Your body is processing it and detoxing…it won't be a fun week but you'll be fine."

Brinn just nodded, staring at the open cuts along her arms with a combination of disgust and fear.

"Can I go wash the blood off?" she asked.

"Can you stand up?" Dean countered.

"Sure," she replied. Though it sounded like she was trying to convince herself more than them. She managed it though…stumbling to her feet and making it to the bathroom before either of the boys had a chance to protest.

She slammed the door.

"Should I..." Dean suggested.

"Go in there?" Sam replied, "I wouldn't. She doesn't trust you as it is. She watched you decapitate one of them and that's not a great first impression."

"Fair point. I'm gonna go get us some Tylenol and ice packs and Gatorade. Make sure she doesn't pass out. The last thing she needs right now is a concussion," Dean said, grabbing the keys and heading for the door.

"Dean?" Sam's voice caught him in the doorway.

"What?"

"Do you think Cas could help her?"

"Why? It's just detox? It hurts like hell but she'll get through it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger."

"No Dean…we get through it. And Dean what doesn't kill us might kill someone else. She's a kid. She's hurt and she's scared. Is there anything we could…"

"She didn't take the hallucinations too hard. Only eight hours Sam…that's a miracle. She should pull through the rest just fine."

"If you say so."

"I say so."


	3. Chapter 3

"SAM!" Brinn's voice cut through his focus as Sam stared at a page full of research.

He jumped to his feet and ran to her…crossing the short distance in only two steps.

"What's wrong?" he asked, keeping the door shut until she told him otherwise.

"Sam I think I'm gonna pass out. Sam, please. Come in."

He opened the door and found her sitting on the shower floor, hair dripping, blood running from the cuts on her arms. In retrospect they should never have let her expose open wounds to water pressure like that. But, relieved that the hallucinations had stopped, they hadn't thought it through.

"Okay," Sam said gently, kneeling down next to her, taking off his shirt and draping it around her shoulders. There were smears of blood on her face from where she'd rubbed her temples and cradled her head. He checked her pulse and felt her temperature. She had to be past 110 at this point – but no seizures yet – no brain damage. He'd forgotten just how much of a beating a body could take when there was still demon blood in the veins. Her pulse was too fast, but it was even.

"Hurts."

"What hurts?"

"Everything Sam," her eyes, meeting his now, were desperate.

"Can I help you stand up? Get the blood off?" he asked.

"Okay."

And he did, taking her slender body, made more delicate now with pain and fatigue, between his big hands and helping her up. Trying not to enjoy the feeling of her head against his chest as he wiped the blood off her face. Aching with a love for her that had seemingly come out of nowhere. But that was seemingly here to stay.

She rested her body against his, shaking, tears pooling in her eyes as he turned the shower to cold and gently rubbed the nape of her neck – hoping to relieve just a little bit of the pain. Quickly he realized her tremors weren't just from pain, but from cold. The cold water on her burning skin probably hurt horribly, but her fever needed breaking though, and Sam knew the water would help bring it down.

"You're safe here," he whispered again and again.

Until suddenly she pushed him away, her knees buckling beneath her, barely giving him a chance to catch her head before it hit the tile. And the moment her knees hit the floor she was gagging, choking on something. Sam helped her get onto all fours, rubbing her back and feeling where she'd already cracked a rib. Choking and gaging turned into retching, but she wasn't bringing up bile this time, only blood.

"Cas!" Sam screamed, "Get down here now!"


	4. Chapter 4

She wasn't getting better. Her fever was high and she was shaking from cold. At most she was getting five minutes of relief before the blood rose and choked her again. The pain was bordering on unbearable, and Sam could feel her muscles tense and release – trying to fight but running out of energy as the constant retching drained her strength. Sam held her and waited for their angel to get there. Or, at the very least, for Dean to come home.

She lasted an hour before Dean arrived. He heard the shower still running and came in without knocking.

"You haven't stitched those cuts yet?" he asked, seeing her limp body clad in Sam's shirt, hands clasped around his neck, blood still running from the open wounds on her arms.

"She's been spitting up blood. I think whatever they gave her…it was so they didn't have to bite her for blood. She fell asleep maybe five minutes ago. I haven't had a chance to stitch anything yet."

"You call Cas?"

"He's not listening."

"That's a lot of blood."

"Believe me. I know. There's a pile of dirty towels over there," he pointed to the corner behind the toilet. To every last towel and bed sheet already stained crimson.

"She needs help," Sam said, caressing Brinn's face.

"I know, brother. I know."


	5. Chapter 5

Sam got Brinn into a dry shirt and carried her to bed. Dean got out their med kit and started systematically cleaning and stitching the cuts and bite marks that lined her arms and neck, while Sam cleaned and bandaged the rope burns on her wrists and ankles. Dean checked her temperature – but it was too high for the thermometer to register.

Her skin burned under their hands, and she wasn't sweating. Whatever the vampires had given her – it was making the second stage of detoxing that much worse. She slept hard for an hour, stirring in pain, her body still tense with agony, but dead to the world.

Then, while Sam went to get clean towels, she woke up.

Her whole body felt like fire. A deep, stabbing pain radiated through her stomach and her lungs and her skin burned with a strange, unsettling mixture of cold and heat. It felt like someone had taken a jackhammer to her head.

She'd had better days.

"Sam?" Brinn murmured, coming around. Dean knelt beside her and pushed back the still-damp hair from her face.

"You're gonna be fine. Like we said – it's just detox," Dean told her.

"Where's Sam?" she asked, eyes wide, scared.

"He's coming."

"Promise?"

"Course I do," Dean said, "now let's get you some fluids and something to take that fever down."

"Okay," Brinn nodded and let him help her get seated. The movement hurt. Everything hurt.

Dean handed her a bottle of Gatorade and a couple of Tylenol.

"This should help," he said.

She nodded, silent, and took the pills without complaint. That is, until the stabbing in her stomach and lungs intensified. And she found herself choking on blood again. Not thirty seconds after swallowing the medicine and fluids that might just make her feel a tiny bit better.

"That's not good," Dean said, trying to keep the panic out of his voice as he held Brinn's shoulder and patted her back. No. This certainly wasn't a typical detox.

Sam came in as Brinn was still gagging on blood. He rushed to her side, wiped her face with one of the clean towels, and pulled her against his chest.

"What brought it on?" he asked Dean.

"I tried to get some fluids and Tylenol in her but…" Dean spread his hands in a gesture of defeat.

"Her temperature's higher than before," Sam noted, pressing his cheek against her head.

"I think so…the thermometer won't read it anymore."

"Give me one of those ice packs," Sam requested. Dean complied and Sam tried to press it against Brinn's wrist – picking one of the key points that would bring her temperature down. She cried out and pulled away.

"Hurts," she shuddered.

"I know it does. But we've got to get your fever down and the Tylenol isn't agreeing with you," Sam whispered.

"Sam hurts," she repeated, burying her head in his chest, pulling against him as he kept pressing the cold pack to her wrist.

Ten minutes later she was spitting up blood again. And Sam and Dean didn't know what to do. They tried Tylenol, antacids – even though they both knew blood was basic – more Gatorade, ginger, everything. But they kept ending up in the same situation. With Brinn crying in Sam's arms as they tried to use ice to bring the fever down in the face of increasing dehydrating and her ever present pain.

She fell asleep after an hour. Sam picked her up and carried her back to the shower. He took the bloody shirt off of her shaking frame and washed off all the blood. Task complete, he grabbed another clean shirt for her and wet a towel and two washcloths in the coldest water he could get from the tap. He wrapped the washcloths around her wrists – rubber banding them in place when she tried to pull away – then pressed the towel against the back of her neck.

She roused a little at the new pain – whispering his name and the constant refrain "hurts" as he rubbed her temples and tried to gently work the tension out from between her shoulders – until she fell asleep again.

Dean stood at the door – ready if Sam needed him – watching – silent. Watching his little brother fall in love with the victim they were trying to protect. Watching Sam cradle her and comfort her back to sleep.

He couldn't let Brinn die. It'd kill Sam too.

They needed Cas. Now.


	6. Chapter 6

But he still wasn't coming. Dean took to the parking lot and screamed himself hoarse. But Cas wasn't there. It was dark by the time he gave up calling for their angel. He walked back into the hotel room – noticing for the first time how filthy it was and found Brinn mercifully asleep, collapsed in Sam's arms, still shaking, cold washcloths rubber banded around her wrists, body tense with pain.

"She throw up more?" Dean asked as he came in.

Sam nodded, "I tried giving her Tylenol again. Should've known better. Came back up. Lots of blood. I don't know what to do Dean."

Dean felt Brinn's forehead then checked her pulse. Temperature wasn't any lower. Pulse wasn't any slower. She still wasn't sweating. The poison was keeping the demon blood in her – making it impossible for her to detox completely by keeping her fever from breaking – replacing the usual horror with one even worse – with internal bleeding.

"Go take a shower, get some food," Dean said, "I'll look after her."

"If she wakes up…" Sam began.

"I'll come get you," Dean replied, sitting down on the edge of the bed as Sam laid Brinn down. Dean rested one hand on Brinn's chest, so he could feel if she stopped breathing and pulled up a fresh page of research on his laptop.

XXXXXXXX

He hadn't read ten words – Sam was barely in the shower – when she woke up, choking on blood, too disoriented to realize she had to turn over so she didn't asphyxiate. And Dean was too slow – by the time he'd reacted she wasn't breathing.

"SAM!" he yelled, "HERE NOW!"

He turned Brinn onto her side, hoping she'd cough up the blood and start breathing again. It didn't work.

Sam stumbled out of the bathroom, dripping and in only a towel.

"She choked on the blood and stopped breathing we…"

Sam didn't wait for Dean to finish his instructions. He started CPR, ignoring the blood that was everywhere now, trying to breathe life back into their survivor's lungs. He could feel himself mentally counting the minutes until there would be irreversible harm. And the relief was palpable when, ninety seconds before that threshold, Brinn started coughing spitting up the blood that had choked her, when she breathed again.

"Sam?" she was too lost, in too much pain to know how to reach for him. She just collapsed.

"You're gonna be fine," Sam whispered, picking her up and carrying her back to the shower. He turned the water to cold and winced when he saw the tears pooling in her eyes, heard her whimper.

"Why does everything hurt?" Brinn asked, eyes wide and trusting and full of tears.

Sam didn't answer. He sat down next to her and let her lay his head on his chest and as he took Brinn's hand and tried to find the pressure point on her wrist that would ease the nausea.

And as he did Dean went back outside.

"Cas she's dying!" he yelled, "Do you want her blood on your hands?"

And the moment he stopped speaking Cas appeared.


	7. Chapter 7

"What's the matter?" he asked, standing in the parking lot, staring at Dean, "You and Sam have been rather loud. I was taking care of something with Bobby."

"Her name's Brinn. She survived a vampire attack. They gave her demon blood and something else…we don't know what…she hallucinated for a few hours and now she's cogent but she's retching blood, her fever's steady at 110, she's in a hell of a lot of pain, and we don't know what to do about it."

"Oh."

"Care to fix it?"

"Right…of course. Where is she?"

"Follow me," Dean told him.

XXXXXXXXX

"Cas!" Sam exclaimed as the angel walked in, leaving Dean to stand in the door and glare. He was glad Cas had finally arrived. But that didn't erase his anger. They'd been moments away from a dead body…and Cas could have fixed it all ages ago.

"This, I presume, is the girl?" Cas said, bending down and attempting, unsuccessfully, to avoid the cold shower Sam had running for Brinn.

"Yeah. She got bitten up quite a bit, then they gave her demon blood…"

"Your brother got me up to date," Cas replied, laying a hand on Brinn's shaking shoulder and probing with his mind – trying to figure out what was wrong. He searched for what felt like an eternity – feeling her pain – feeling her fear.

"We can fix it," Cas said after the agonizing wait.

"How? With what?" Sam's eyes brightened.

"They gave her a poison I've only seen a few times before. There's an antidote."

"Great – now go get some," Dean said.

"It's a little more complicated than that."

"Why?"

"If I touch it, it won't work."

"Fine…I will go to the store or wherever the heck they keep this stuff and I'll get it," Dean replied none to gently.

Brinn stirred in Sam's arms and he resumed the gentle circles he'd been rubbing at the nape of her neck.

"That's the problem."

"Where does this antidote come from Cas?" Dean asked.

"You've got to be north of the 45th parallel. It grows everywhere up there. By the side of the road. Everywhere."

"And we are currently…at the 39th parallel," Sam thought for a moment before adding, "It's what – a five hour drive to get that far north?"

"Approximately," Cas responded.

"Give us a minute Cas," Dean said, kneeling down beside his brother and Brinn.

Castiel departed. He stood, seemingly purposeless, in the center of the room, then decided he could tidy things up, and started cleaning frantically.

Meanwhile Dean sat on the wet bathroom floor, watching Brinn breathe, trying to assess her condition.

"Dean I don't think she has ten hours."

"I know Sam. I don't think so either."

"Dean what do we do? We can't let her die. We didn't save her for this to happen," Sam's voice was getting a frantic edge.

"Sam, you know better than I do, we can check with Castiel…" Dean trailed off, it wasn't an easy question, "Do you think she can last five?"

"We could all three of us go – and she'd get the antidote twice as fast…" Sam considered the option, "make her detox in the car…"

"She's in so much pain and she's so scared right now Sam…honestly I think as long as we take ice packs and something for her to throw up in…if she has you she'll be okay."

"I don't want to hurt her anymore Dean."

"I know Sam."

"But I want to save her."

"Then go get dressed and we'll get rolling."


	8. Chapter 8

Sam helped Brinn into a clean t shirt and a pair of Dean's boxers. It wasn't a great solution but her own clothes were bloodstained and torn – this was less conspicuous and more comfortable. At this point she was getting a few hours relief in between bouts of retching, that is, if she didn't try to eat or drink anything. Her fever was high, her head throbbed, her body ached, but now they had a timetable. Five hours. Five hours and she would be safe.

Dean got a snagged a bucket from an abandoned maid's cart, grabbed their ice packs and left everything else. Brinn's survival could come down to minutes, he didn't want to waste any time.

Sam and Dean were both exhausted. Night was coming on day two of Brinn's ordeal and neither of them had slept a full night for three days. They could take turns driving. Dean had managed a few hours of rest so he took the first shift. Cas would meet them there.

The back seat really wasn't big enough for both Sam and Brinn, but they made it work. In spite of the Impala's raucous engine and less than refined driving dynamics, Brinn fell asleep on Sam's chest within a half hour, and stayed out for another two.

For a minute Dean actually thought things were working out. But when she woke up she was worse, the pain was bad and she was hitting the end of her tolerance. Dean was exhausted – but he knew that only Sam would be able to get her to calm down.

She was vomiting almost constantly and Sam felt her crack another rib. It was a vicious cycle. Brinn would fall asleep for a few minutes, finding bliss in unconsciousness only to wake up crying, her body shaking. She was running out of strength to bring up the blood that choked her and Sam worried she might asphyxiate again. He really didn't want to be giving her CPR on the side of the road.

After 80 minutes of the torture she passed out. Sam arranged her on one side, worried she might be too disoriented and in too much pain to sit up if she needed to throw up again.

His concern proved well founded. Her body was giving up. Even now, mostly asleep, the retching didn't stop. Every five minutes, ten if they were lucky, her body would heave, bringing up more blood, but too weak to fight it. She lay still, tears running from closed eyes as Dean drove and Sam sat with her head in his lap, rubbing circles on her temples and hoping she'd make it the last hour.


	9. Chapter 9

Dean pulled over 100 feet north of the 45th parallel, onto the wooded shoulder of the country road. He got out of the car – looked at the plants – clueless.

"Cas please," Sam whispered, cradling Brinn's shaking body and watching his brother search in vain.

The angel appeared instantly and Sam watched him point at something growing low on the ground, watched his brother kneel and pick some, and felt the cold air as Dean opened the back door.

"We've got to get her to swallow this and keep it down for fifteen minutes," Dean said, "there's a house two blocks east of here – abandoned but safe – Cas checked it out for us. Wake her up get this in her and I'll start driving."

XXXXXXX

Fifteen minutes didn't sound like a long time. That is until Sam realized just how much pain having food in her ravaged stomach would cause Brinn. She clung to him, sobbing, swallowing back the blood that rose in her throat, finally passing out as they pulled into the abandoned driveway.

Dean opened the door and Sam carried Brinn to the porch. It was covered – sheltered at least a bit – and there was a wooden bench that hadn't rotted out. He lay Brinn on her side, cradling her head in one big palm. Twelve minutes. She was still unconscious, her body completely imp. Thirteen. No change.

And then at 15 minutes – to the second – her eyes opened and she was retching again. But this time it wasn't blood. This was different. Green tinged bile that smelled like burning. This was a chance for her to actually detox. And – painful though it was – it only lasted an hour.

"She'll be fine now," Cas said, "weak and sick for a few days…but the fever should break within the next few days. Find a hotel where you can stay unnoticed and take good care of her."

And that's just what they did.

XXXXXX

Forty-eight hours later Sam woke up, disoriented, confused at the silence and the calm around him. Brinn slept in his arms. Her body still and her breathing even, her skin cool and dewed with a thin sheen of sweat. The fever had broken; the retching was done. She was safe.

XXXXXXX

Dean watched his little brother startle awake, seemingly unable to comprehend the clean, peaceful hotel room where they'd made camp. He watched Sam stroke Brinn's hair then lay back down beside her. And he wondered how he was going to shake Sam's mind from that beautiful girl they'd rescued.


End file.
